


The Only People Who Have Clients (are prostitutes and lawyers)

by ImperialMint



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint/pseuds/ImperialMint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from kinkme_merlin prompt's Spring Fever, Merlin is being trialed in court for murder. Arthur is his lawyer and falls for BAMF!Merlin while fighting Merlin's case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only People Who Have Clients (are prostitutes and lawyers)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mentions of intoxication (drugs&alcohol), mentions of murder (plus descriptions), mentions of character death, violence, brief mention of prostitution, brief mention of rape, a thoroughly warped/corrupt justice/legal system, stillbirth. I also know nothing about law, so everything's just a fantasy in my mind.

There was a warm dip in the bed beside Arthur when he woke up, sheets half pushed back over his chest, skin pimpled as it hit the cool morning air. His flat was silent, a sure sign that the previous night's transgression had left already, slipping out the door before he had woken. It was something that happened more often than Arthur would like to admit, but he didn't have time for anything more than casual (and slightly drunken) one night stands.

The alarm sitting on the wooden desk beside him sounded, trilling in his ear as it informed him of the time. Time to go, get up, eat, start work. Time to sign away his life to a job he couldn't say he loved, but one that he'd never leave. The life of a law worker was hard, but Arthur had learnt from an early age about the principles of justice and how important it was that it was delivered correctly. Or as correctly as it could be in this world.

When thinking about it, Arthur wondered if he'd ever really been given a chance to choose his career. He often mulled such things over his morning tea, sipping through the steam until he felt the burn in the back of his throat. He delivered justice because it ran through his veins, imparted the right punishment to those who had broken the law. It wasn't glamorous and he worked unsociable hours, but it was right. Arthur, unlike so many other people in the world, had a purpose and a right to help people.

And, he had to say, he was damned good at his job.

Arthur left the house with his tie knotted perfectly, suit immaculate and no sign of last night's drinking on his face. They'd been celebrating (which was all they seemed to do at the company these days) something or other, hitting the town until one of the secretaries had thrown up over the pavement, moving out of that club and onto the next. It was a typical night for the high-earning workers at Camelot Legal Group, after a long day of unrelenting work.

It was a stupid habit, Arthur knew, but it was easier to continue the cycle rather than break away from his colleagues. He was known for being a great lawyer and a great person to go out with, and why should he change a great thing? His own feelings had little consideration when the only alternative was to go home and deal with the stress, most likely ending up like his father with a glass of cognac on his own.

In a car that was worth more money that Arthur liked to disclose, he drove to work, parking in the first space he could find at Camelot Legal Group's employees-only car park before entering the building. There were no signs of alcohol-induced pain anywhere, a sure mark of the professionals they were, and Arthur walked to the lift, going up until he hit the fifth floor – his floor.

"Good morning Arthur," a woman's voice greeted and he bowed his head slightly to Guinevere. She was a fierce woman when placed on a case, but outside she was one of the nicest people possible.

"Morning Gwen," he replied, following her as she moved to her office, opposite from Arthur's. Their offices were spacious, comfortable even some might say, but it wasn't for the comfort of the workers.

"Your morning client's already in your office," Gwen said, raising an eyebrow. Arthur hummed in acknowledgement; while it wasn't odd for someone to be early for their appointment, it was barely seven thirty in the morning. Whatever this client wanted, they wanted it badly.

"Right, best get back to it then," he muttered, flashing Gwen a brief smile. She was already buried away under papers for her own case, one that had stretched on for months now. Arthur only knew the basics (multiple homicide that the police were accused of fiddling with the evidence), but he knew it was a hard case.

Gwen loved it though. She loved immersing herself in something deeply, battling through until her justice had been wrought. Arthur loved it too, but there was always something missing. Sure he could condemn criminals and lock them up, but they rarely ever got the sentencing they deserved (he'd seen men who had killed children walk free years short of their already reduced sentence, women who ran prostitution brothels run free with a few months only under their belts).

Despite all they did, here at Camelot and over at Mercia, even over in Caerleon, it wasn't enough. The justice system was flawed, corrupted, and hardly anyone kept their heads above it anymore. Arthur would love to say that he had followed the path of righteous justice his whole life, but there were moments, tiny moments, that he'd slipped, as with everyone. He'd paid policemen to fabricate evidence, to convict a man they knew was guilty, but who was too slippery.

Even so, even in the name of justice, Arthur knew what he'd done was wrong. He knew it, but he didn't regret it. And it was easy to say that everyone else did it (corruption was tightly belted up against the media, but more and more people were coming to places like Camelot because they could let you win, regardless of innocence or not), but Arthur didn't use that as a fall back excuse.

They lived in a pathetic world, one that was miserable half of the time and pitiful the other. There wasn't a single court case that went without some kind of fiddling behind the backs of lawyers and judges. Innocent until proven guilty was a mockery now; innocence belonged to the highest bidder.

His office door was closed, the silhouette of a person seated in the spare chair opposite Arthur's own visible through the frosted glass pane. The figure started when he opened the door, turning her head sharply.

"My apologies," Arthur slipped into a formal tone, "I did not realise you'd be here so soon."

The woman stood, brushing invisible dirt from a smart, black skirt, straightening her suit jacket and offering Arthur a hand. He could see she was a sharp woman, but there was something around her eyes, a certain softness.

"No, it's my fault," she said hurriedly, sitting back down as Arthur moved around the desk, shrugging his coat off and placing his briefcase on the desk, untouched for the moment.

"It's just…" she looked down at her lap, to where her hands were. "I was told that you're the best and, quite frankly, I need the best."

It was a line Arthur had heard a thousand times over, in different words sometimes, but no less of the same meaning. It was true – he was the best Camelot had to offer, but it also meant that this woman was prepared to pay a high price for his services. And the people always willing to pay the most were the ones who needed to be proved innocent, regardless of if they were or not.

"My son is to be trialled as a murderer. They say he killed a man and that there was a witness. I need you to defend him, to show them that he's not the beast they think he is." Her voice was edging on desperate and Arthur sat back in his chair.

"Forgive me Ms…" he trailed off, suddenly realising that he hadn't had time to look at his client list for the day and that the woman hadn't introduced herself.

"Emrys. Hunith Emrys," she supplied, face stern as she waited for whatever it was Arthur was going to say.

"Ms Emrys," he nodded, silently thanking her. "It goes against my ethics," hah, that was laughable, what ethics did anyone have these days? "To represent a guilty man. The fact that you're here on his behalf doesn't suggest that he's innocent."

He'd seen it before, time and time again. An upset mother would come in to beg and plead, to throw themselves at Arthur's feet (or any of the other lawyers on the fifth floor for that matter), begging them to free their son or daughter. That was how it went, they said, the highest bidder got their freedom and case won.

"My son is not guilty," Hunith said, her lips thinning as she pressed them together. "He's a good man with a good heart, no matter what anyone else says."

During these typical instances, Arthur tried not to look at the client. Looking at her would mean that Arthur would see her pain, that he'd be compelled to help – because that was human nature, was it not? But he looked at Hunith then, and was intrigued by what he found.

There were no tears in this mother's eyes. She wholly believed her son to be a good man, perhaps even to be innocent of the crimes against him, and such belief (that was so rare these days) struck something in Arthur.

"I can't agree until I talk to your son," he began. "So if you can bring him in perhaps later today?"

Hunith searched his eyes for something and nodded when she'd found whatever it was she'd been looking for.

"I'll bring him back," she said, standing again and gathering her bag. "I can see that you're a good man too, that you're a rare man where all else stand corrupted."

Arthur didn't know how to respond and he simply looked at Hunith as she walked from the room, back straight and outfit immaculate. She was a woman who knew business, one of old money most likely too, and Arthur slunk low in his chair, the horrifying feeling that he was going to accept the Emrys' case regardless of what the son was like growing in his head.

The day passed in a flurry, Arthur speaking to three more prospective clients, declining two of them and picking up the man who wanted to charge his neighbour for assault (with the Emrys case on the back of his mind, Arthur found himself mentally freeing up space, even though he technically hadn't accepted yet).

It was late afternoon when the floor's receptionist buzzed through on the phone, asking if he'd authorised one Hunith Emrys and son to come up. He asked for her to send them through, straightening his tie and standing from his chair just as the office door opened.

Hunith was still the same as the morning, smartly dressed with her hair pinned back, a woman of class and money. Behind her trailed a tall, thin man, dressed almost completely opposite to Hunith in scruffy jeans and an old hoodie, scuffing his feet on the plush carpet with obvious distaste.

He didn't look like a killer, that much was for sure.

(But you couldn't judge a man by what he looked like these days, too many times had a 'good' man been let free simply because he didn't look the part."

"Mr Pendragon," Hunith greeted, holding her hand out again. "I'd like you to meet my son, Merlin."

She turned round, looking to Merlin with a pointed stare. The scruffy man gave Arthur a once over before shrugging, crossing his arms over his chest and standing over at the wall, closer to the door than the rest of them.

"It's good to see you," Arthur ventured, looking to Merlin as if he could judge him on a single reaction. There was no reaction as the man looked pointedly down at the floor, not even attempting to play nicely.

Arthur took a breath in, unsure exactly how this would play out now. Most people who came to Arthur were innocent – or at least pledged their innocence over and over again until Arthur was sick of hearing their pleas – and made sure that Arthur knew as much. This man though, standing by the door and looking for all the world as if this was the last place he wanted to be, was different to anyone Arthur had met before. Even the guilty ones had pleaded to innocence, as if that would change Arthur's mind when he'd read them easily as soon as they'd stepped over the threshold.

"So, how exactly can I help you Mr Emrys?" Arthur tried again, looking to Merlin. Their eyes met in an icy stare.

"We need you to defend him," Hunith said, half-turning to look back at her son. "Whatever the crimes against him are, I know he's-"

"And it's as I keep telling you," a low, angry voice burst in, "That I killed the bastard. I did it, I'm guilty, and I'd do it again."

Well, Arthur thought, that had never happened in his office before.

"Merlin!" Hunith admonished, half-rising from her chair, "How could you say that now? You promised me-"

"What?" Merlin cut in again, and Arthur had the feeling they'd had this argument time and time again. "I've already told you, I'm not going to say I'm innocent when I'm not." He tilted his chin up, defiantly, to Arthur. "I don't care if he's the best lawyer in town or whatever, I did it."

Arthur obligingly looked away as Hunith rose, walking over to her son.

"I've already told you, you don't get to choose this." She was barely talking, hissing now, but Arthur could just make out the words. "You're not going to prison, you're all I have and if our money is useful for something it'll damn well be this."

There was no room for arguments in Hunith's words and Merlin simply turned his gaze from his mother to look at Arthur again, distain clear in his curled lip.

"Now," she said, straightening up and smiling slightly to Arthur. He noticed the tight pull on her face and wondered how exactly she felt, for her son (and possible only family member, judging from her reaction) and how much she was willing to push until Arthur was on the case. "I believe we have business to discuss."

It would be easy for Arthur to turn them away, what with Merlin convinced of his guilt. It was amazing the man wasn't locked up already, what with his blasé attitude concerning hiding what he'd done, so different to any other criminal (guilty or otherwise) that Arthur had ever met.

Merlin finally left his post at the wall, scuffing his shoes again until he sat in the chair next to Hunith, looking at odds with his mother.

"So," Hunith broke the silence, "We'd like for you to represent Merlin and prove his innocence."

Merlin shifted, muttering something and both Arthur and Hunith looked to him, the latter with a stern look.

"Prove?" he parroted, shaking his head with a smile. "There's nothing to prove. If anything you're going to have to find someone to pay off to fabricate evidence that I'm not guilty."

Merlin sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a smugness about him and, despite his stance against malpractice and the oaths he'd sworn by when taking the job, Arthur found himself wanting to take on the case. He wanted to know why Hunith was so sure of Merlin's innocence when the son himself claimed he'd done it.

Something was wrong here, and whether it was because Hunith had too much faith in her son (though she didn't seem that type of person) or whether it was because Merlin was hiding something, Arthur wanted to know.

How long had it been since he'd felt the pull of interest, something tugging at him. He hadn't chosen to be a lawyer, not really, when his father had simply directed his learning and interests with the assumption that, one day, Arthur would follow in his footsteps, but he had, from time to time, enjoyed it, really enjoyed it that is. And here was the pull again, on an impossible case it seemed.

This was something that Gwaine would take on, a case that was doomed from the start. But here he was, Arthur Pendragon, number one lawyer at Camelot Legal Group and he was going to take on a case that would most likely end up with his client behind bars or with Arthur faking evidence one way or another. Neither sat well on his morals, but…

Merlin shifted in his chair and Hunith tilted her head up a little, unafraid to look him in the eye. How could he turn them away when they came as they were? These people were honest, despite whatever crime had been committed and whatever went on outside this room.

Which was why, thirteen minutes later, Arthur was calling the fourth floor, asking them to draw a contract up for him, a client-lawyer contract between Emrys and Pendragon. Hunith and Merlin left, arranging a meeting to sign the documents, and a meeting after that for just Merlin and Arthur, to begin the long process of what was to come.

Arthur left the office that day, same time as usual, but turned down the offers to go out. He was boo-ed at and called names (all in good jest), but Arthur had work to do now; starting with tearing down Merlin Emrys' walls until the truth was revealed.

Hunith came alone to sign the documents, with an official slip of paper that held Merlin's own signature and a note that said she was legalised to sign on his behalf. She looked uncomfortable doing so and mentioned that Merlin wasn't exactly keen to go through with this.

"He's only doing it because of me," she said, suddenly, just before she was about to leave. "I know he says he's guilty and sticking to it, but I know him better than anyone, a mother always does."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"He's a good man. I know I keep saying it," she looked down, eyes raking over his desk. "He's all I have left now and… I can't bear to watch if he…" She broke off, inhaling deeply and standing from the chair.

"Merlin will be difficult," she added, "And for that I'm sorry. If he gives you any undue hassle, just let me know and I'll be able to compensate you."

Arthur made to protest, but Hunith shook her head. "I've inherited a lot of money and if I don't use it on my only son then what good is it?"

Arthur didn't know. Hunith left then, leaving his office door open for Gwen to wander in, watching his client's mother leave.

"You've taken on a case then?" she asked, closing Arthur's door softly. She sat in the chair that Hunith had vacated, looking at Arthur curiously. He knew why she was so curious; Arthur was selective in his cases. Any case he chose, at least big case, had to have some kind of pull and everyone in the office was always interested when he took on another big case.

"Yeah, a murder one." He straightened his tie, shuffling through the contract papers Hunith had signed. "It looks like it'll be difficult, the man's not exactly a willing participant." He filed the papers away. "That was the client's mother, the one paying for it all."

Gwen wrinkled her nose at that. She was one of the very few who believed in a fair justice system, but fair in the way of payment. She didn't like that a lawyer's talents could be bought by the wrong side while the real innocent one was left in the gutter.

"Well, at least you won't get bored," she said, a knowing look on her face.

There was one thing that Arthur disliked about Gwen. She knew him too well, far too well. While he doubted she knew the exact kind of person who filtered through his bedroom (she knew they were men, yes, but she'd never understand how someone could have so many unattached flings), she knew that he had hardly had a committed relationship in some time. And so, because of that, she thought that something was lacking in his life and that he made up for a lack of 'companionship' (she'd stuttered over the word during one night out, cheeks pink with alcohol) by fuelling it into his job, picking things that demanded attention.

She was worried about him, was what she meant. Arthur had told her time and time again that he didn't need anything, wasn't lacking in his life, but Gwen had the odd notion in her head that she could save everyone, that she could save a man who didn't need saving.

She left his office a few minutes later and Arthur was left to browse through his appointments for the day, preparing himself to meet Merlin, alone.

Merlin Emrys didn't show up to their first meeting. 9AM rolled by and there was no lanky man standing at his door. That wasn't a worry though, sometimes people were late, and Merlin seemed the sort to purposefully turn out late. Ten o'clock rolled by and Arthur began to grow irritated, and so when three PM ticked by, he picked up his phone and dialled Hunith's contact number.

There was no answer and so he left a curt message, asking for Merlin to reschedule the appointment.

Three days later and there was still no reply. Arthur knew he had to take this into his own hands.

It appeared that the Emrys' hadn't only inherited their money, judging from the large, gated mansion the cab let him out at. Arthur nodded to the cabbie, paying the fare, before strolling up to the wrought iron gate, pressing a buzzer at the side of the wall.

"Arthur Pendragon, here to represent Merlin Emrys," he introduced himself when a gruff voice sounded over the intercom. There was a moment of silence, before the gate lock clicked and Arthur was ordered inside the property.

The house itself wasn't set too far back from the gate, and it was a short walk up the drive until he reached the open door. A man stood there, introduced himself as the housekeeper – Matthew – and explained that Mr Emrys was upstairs and Arthur should wait in the parlour room (an actual parlour room!) while he fetched him.

So that was how Arthur found himself drowning in a Victorian-esque parlour room, seated on the edge of a velvet-lined chair. The house was eerily silent, as houses with so many rooms and so little people generally are, and there was nothing to do but sit and wait patiently.

He didn't have to wait long. The door slammed open and Merlin strode in, jeans and t-shirt combination still, looking furious.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed, standing by Arthur's chair. Arthur rose slowly, looking Merlin straight in the eye.

"You failed to keep your appointment or reschedule it, so I thought I'd come over here to see if there was a problem. Your mother's money won't go to waste," he added, hoping that he could stir Merlin into some form of conversation.

Arthur watched as Merlin's jaw clenched, but he moved to sit down on the chair opposite Arthur's, crossing his legs and placing his hands on the arm of the chair.

"I've already told you I'm guilty," he said after a minute's silence. "So why even bother?"

He was determined, that much Arthur could see. And with determination came a challenge, and with a challenge came Arthur Pendragon.

"Why don't we start by you telling me your story?" Arthur asked, drawing Merlin to him.

"You mean you haven't even looked at that in the case file?" Merlin moved forwards in his chair, eyebrow raised curiously.

"I have," was Arthur's reply, because he had, multiple times. "But I'd like to hear your retelling of the events."

Sometimes the client repeated a story to themselves so many times that it became true in their head, sometimes they outright lied, and sometimes they told the truth. Either way, Arthur needed to hear the story from Merlin's lips, to judge him on his words first rather than reading them off paper.

Merlin inspected Arthur for a moment before he drew back, resting against his chair once more and fixing Arthur with a humourless stare.

"Fine," Merlin retorted, "I'll tell you."

It was nearing to 1am on Friday. It was cold, but the alleys leading off of Ealdor Square were fairly sheltered and while it wasn't exactly a place to linger, it was comfortable enough to walk home. Merlin shrugged his coat higher up against his ears as he left the pub, nodding to a few patrons outside.

That was when he noticed a figure walking into one of the alleys, stepping through a dim beam of light left by a half-broken lamppost. Merlin's lip curled as he realised who the man was and, while he'd never met Mordred before, Will had often warned Merlin and the rest of them to look out for him.

Mordred was a slippery character, got into drugs a few years ago and owed a few people some money. Nothing too serious – everyone in drugs owed someone something – but with Mordred, it was different. He was violent at times, capable of great rages, and it made him dangerous. There were rumours (and no, Merlin would not tell Arthur what these rumours were) about him, hushed and whispered behind hands.

Regardless of the rumours, Merlin knew that the world would be a better place without Mordred and so followed him, entering the alleyway and reaching behind him where, concealed by his jacket, a gun lay tucked into his trouser waist.

And then that was that. Mordred turned, Merlin fired the gun and he was dead.

"The police said they found two other prints on the gun," Arthur said as Merlin finished. There was silence for a moment, before Merlin shifted in his chair.

"Fine then, I don't suppose anything gets past you then. It wasn't so easy then, alright?" Merlin rolled his eyes, returning to the story.

He entered the alleyway and Mordred, almost towards the end of the pavement now, turned as he heard footsteps.

"Emrys," he said, stepping back into the darkness of the alley and walking back up to join Merlin. "I've heard so much about you."

Merlin didn't fall for the bait. He didn't know how Mordred knew his name, but it was probably through Will or someone else in the group. It wasn't a hidden fact that his friends were dealers or caught up in some form of crime (who wasn't these days) and so Merlin wasn't too bothered by the fact Mordred knew him.

Instead, he drew his gun, squaring up to Mordred.

"Playing with the men now are we Emrys?" Mordred taunted, stepping up to Merlin. They were next to each other now and Mordred slipped his hand over the gun.

"I don't think you have the guts, do you?" Mordred whispered, and Merlin proved him wrong. There was satisfaction as the bullet went through his head and a shocked look appeared on Mordred's face before he fell back, dead.

"I just waited there after that until a friend of mine came running out of the pub and found me." Merlin shrugged again, "She took the gun from me and was there when the police arrived."

"So then the police arrived on the scene and arrested you until your mother paid the bail and you were set up for a trial, given time to find a lawyer and… well we're here." Merlin nodded to Arthur's words, obliging as Arthur looked him over.

There was no trace of a lie, but something was strange with what Merlin had said. It matched the police report perfectly and was an exact telling of what had happened from witnesses (those who had seen the victim and Merlin leave the pub and then the woman – Freya – who had arrived on the scene shortly after). There was something though, something that Arthur couldn't put his finger on.

"It wasn't a proper motive though, was it?" Arthur pushed, not believing that this man, in his scruffy clothing, would kill off the bat as he'd suggested he did.

"What, wanting to get rid of a prick like Mordred isn't enough of a motive?" Merlin gave a half-laugh, half-snort. "He didn't pay his way, he's harassed my friends enough times and he acted as if he was some kind of king. Not even the criminals deserve him and, through killing him, I'm known by everyone."

Merlin threw his hands wide as he finished, smiling with a hint of smugness. For some reason, Arthur knew it was wrong. He didn't know Merlin, and technically this was their first proper meeting, but something cried out to Arthur that seeing that look on Merlin's face, hearing him say he wanted to be known… it was wrong.

"How much had you had to drink?" Arthur asked instead. Even if Merlin wasn't revealing everything, it was unlikely he was going to admit to it. Arthur still had a job to do, still had to defend Merlin in court, and he'd do it. They just had to find a way where Merlin could get his 'fame' or whatever it was and yet still be allowed to walk free at the end.

There were mitigating circumstances to a murder charge. If Merlin had been drunk, for example, Arthur could spin a story of how he'd just been trying to get home and that Mordred had aggravated him. It wouldn't get him off, of course (unless the right connections were made and the money passed to the right hands), but it could waive his sentence, narrow it down rather than the stamp of life.

Oh. Arthur was becoming one of 'them' now, wasn't he? Before he'd held onto his morals, trying only to use his influence when he had to, when there was a just cause. But now… now here he was defending a man who refused to even think he was innocent, openly admitting he'd killed someone.

There were no get-out clauses on the contract, no way that Arthur could back out now. And even so, even if there had been a way to get out, he doubted that he would. Looking at Merlin, sitting with a guarded look, he knew there was something off about his recount of events, something there, something more. Even if Merlin was guilty, Arthur had only lost a handful of cases before and Hunith had been right when she'd said he was the best. He'd figure Merlin out even if he had to swing the law (and really, everyone had done it, so why shouldn't Arthur?), and if he knew before the case was closed? Then Merlin could go behind bars, where he believed he belonged.

"I hadn't drunk enough if that's what you're wondering. They did a test on me too, it should be in my file," Merlin said. He seemed to like making it seem as though Arthur was substandard, that he wasn't doing his job right. And, maybe if Arthur was in his position, he'd agree, but for now it was bloody annoying.

"If you know who to pay, they can write whatever they want in your file," Arthur said tiredly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. One thing Merlin Emrys was not; relaxing.

"There are certain points in the law in which we can manipulate around. There might be a way to swing our defence if we claim that you were threatened and acting in self-defence. You mentioned that he held the gun while you did, we could say he tried to take it from you and you felt you had no choice." The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but he had to say them. Whatever Merlin had done, they were in this together now.

Merlin fixed him with a stare, leaning forwards and shaking his head.

"You don't get it do you? I'm guilty. I don't care what happens to me, I killed the prick and I'm not sorry in the slightest." He tilted his chin before standing. "And I'd like you to leave now, our meeting's over and I have places to be."

Arthur rose, but he was unwilling to let Merlin think he'd won. He collected his coat and briefcase, shrugging the former on as Matthew joined them, opening the parlour door and walking them down the hall. Merlin stopped at the grand staircase in the entrance hall and Arthur followed suit.

"You know, your reputation would do better if you could get a shortened sentence. Who wants to follow a guy who murdered someone and then was locked up? It's the ones who walk free that become the stuff of legends." With that said, Arthur nodded to Matthew as he passed him, walking back down the drive with a little beat of satisfaction in his chest.

Curiosity drew a lot of people in, and Arthur knew Merlin was one such person. If he didn't call before the week was up, Arthur swore to eat his hat.

.

They met four times more before Arthur met Freya. Merlin had somewhat agreed to comply with trying to get a reduced sentence, though he refused to budge from the fact that he was guilty.

"I have to take an oath that says I won't lie," Merlin had reminded Arthur.

"You really think anyone tells the truth these days? Not a single person tells the truth in court now and you might want to remember that. I've found out the name of the lawyer who will be against us, Morgana LeFay, and she's like a dog with a bone." Arthur had replied (and he should know, he'd practically grown up with Morgana and while they were friends-of-sorts outside of work, she was as cut-throat as any lawyer and would love to rip into Arthur).

"Well, I'm not going to lie. I'll be an oddity then," Merlin had persisted, challenging Arthur as he lounged in the parlour room – Arthur hadn't been that successful when meeting Merlin and the man refused to leave his home for their meetings.

"I think," Arthur had said with an incredulous look, "You're the only person in the world who'll happily repeat that their guilty of murder and yet refuse to lie just because they have to swear an oath."

But Merlin had been told about the possibilities they could use in court, about how Arthur could talk to the police who had written the report and have them 'amend' the files to show that Merlin had in fact been intoxicated.

Even with all that going on, Arthur had mentioned that he needed to speak to the witness – Merlin's friend Freya. At first Merlin had objected violently (at their third meeting) and practically thrown Arthur from the house. He'd called the office later, apologising (and Arthur thought Hunith might be standing next to him, fixing her son with a glare) for his behaviour and stating that he'd discuss it with Freya and see what she thought.

Still, Merlin was icy in their conversation about Freya, tight lipped and unwilling to give Arthur a contact number. Unfortunately Freya hadn't given one to the police, or at least one hadn't been mentioned in the case file, and so Arthur was left to battle Merlin until the man gave a number up.

"I'm not letting you met here anywhere but on mutual ground," he'd said before telling Arthur to come back tomorrow, shutting the door in his face as soon as Arthur had rang the doorbell on his fifth visit to the Emrys house.

So Arthur returned the next day, a little earlier than the time they'd set before. Matthew let him in and he moved automatically towards the parlour room, expecting it empty. Which was why he started when a hand grasped his arm, Matthew shaking his head.

He was just about to ask what the problem was when he heard Merlin's voice, raised and angry (as it so often was).

"No, you don't get to decide that," floated from the room. "It's done, Freya. Done."

The door slammed open then and Arthur met Merlin's furious face. He glared at Arthur as he passed, storming upstairs with a cascade of door slams, before Arthur turned his attention back to the parlour room.

A pale woman sat there, wide eyed with a hand on her stomach. She was pregnant and showing quite well, which Arthur took to mean she was quite far in her pregnancy. He moved into the room, taking his usual seat.

"I'm Arthur Pendragon, Merlin probably mentioned me?" It was a stupid thing to say – of course Merlin had mentioned him! – but he hadn't been expecting this.

What he'd expected was someone uncaring, cold and, well, fierce. Merlin didn't exactly have the sweetest disposition and why would this woman, carrying a child, hang around with murderers?

She smiled, moving her hand from her stomach to the arm of the chair. "Yes, he did," she said. "I expect you probably have some questions? I mean I told the police what I could, but it seems that it's never really enough." She gave another fleeting smile, clearly nervous.

"I'm sorry," Arthur replied, and really he was. But he had to know what happened from her view, match it with Merlin's story and take it from there. "Would you be able to tell me what happened, so we can get it over with?"

She nodded quickly, eyes scanning the floor, desperately trying to stay away from Arthur. He couldn't blame her; it must be horrible to relive the events over and over, especially when she had a baby to protect.

Will made an obscene joke, waving his arms and falling back into a man carrying three pints. Someone in the group fumbled for their wallet as the man grit his jaw, dripping beer and anger. Freya had only come out thanks to Merlin and Will's insistence and had sat there most of the night, sipping at a glass of lemonade and laughing with her friends. Even though they kept to shady business from time to time, she loved all of them dearly, especially Merlin.

(Arthur wondered whether the baby was Merlin's – it would make sense as to why he'd been so protective of Freya, and the argument before. Maybe Freya was on Arthur's side, had tried to make Merlin see sense.)

Merlin had slipped out for air about ten minutes ago and Freya decided she needed some too. The pub was a non-smoking one, but it was still stuffy, hot and the stench of beer was beginning to sicken her. So she left, looking around for Merlin at the front of the pub.

A few men muttered that he'd walked off into one of the alleys and so Freya walked over to them, peering into the one a man had pointed at, standing under a dimly lit lamppost, looking into the darkness.

A gunshot sounded then and Freya had ducked to the side. The men outside the bar had flinched too, ducking down and peering out into the gloom with wide eyes.

When no other sounds came from the alley, Freya had run in and taken the gun from Merlin, stayed by his side until the police had arrived, held him as he stared down at the dead body. He'd confessed his guilt to the world when the police had taken hold of him and Freya had been left with nothing to do but explain what she'd seen.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You went in just like that? After someone fired a gun and you're pregnant?"

Freya straightened in her seat. "Of course I did," she said hurriedly, still averting her gaze. "Merlin's my closest friend, I needed to see if he was okay."

Sitting back in his chair, Arthur looked at her. While other women seemed to glow with pregnancy, Freya seemed diminished, grey and frail. The baby inside of her seemed as though it was taking the life from her, leaving her with dark circles under her eyes and jittery reactions. There was something here, something wrong.

"How did you know Merlin was in the alley? The men outside the pub were probably quite drunk, so did you just trust what they said?" Arthur watched carefully.

"N-no. I mean I heard Mordred say 'Merlin', so why would I hesitate?" Her look was fierce now and Arthur wondered if his judgement earlier had been a little wrong. This woman was clearly as protective of the people she loved as Gwen or Morgana.

"Well thank you," Arthur said with a smile. "Do you know if I could have a quick word with Merlin? I forgot to ask him something at a meeting before."

Freya nodded slowly, giving directions (and yes, Arthur would need directions in this big, creepy house) on where Merlin would probably be.

Matthew let Freya out, but didn't even comment when Arthur walked to the staircase. Instead he nodded, telling Arthur to find him if he needed any help tracking down the wayward Emrys son.

As it happened, Freya's directions were well given and Merlin was sitting in a spacious room, probably once used for holding ladies afternoon tea in the 'old days'. Large French windows overlooked the front of the house, where Merlin was looking out as Freya walked down the driveway.

"I assume you got everything you needed from her," Merlin drawled, his voice ugly. The anger was still there, but it had simmered down now, resorting to the tone of distain and hatred he reserved just for Arthur.

"I did. She said the reason she went into the alley was because Mordred said your name," he began, watching Merlin.

He grunted, shifting up from his chair and turning away from the window. "He had a fixation with calling me Emrys." He frowned when he noticed Arthur's smile and the frown deepened as Arthur took a seat.

"We don't have a session today," Merlin said, eyeing Arthur with a slight guardedness. Oh what Arthur wouldn't give to get inside his head, take apart all the defences and know who the real Merlin was.

"No, but I just want you to know that I'll be expecting the truth soon. The story you two have – it's a solid, good story, but it's not what really happened." Arthur waited for a beat, meeting Merlin's steely gaze calmly. It was a risky detail to pick on, but Arthur had felt there was something wrong the whole time he'd been on the case. Freya mentioning that Mordred had called Merlin 'Merlin' and not Emrys, coupled with what Merlin had just said… it was good enough for Arthur to hound in on.

As Arthur made to leave, he caught a glimpse of the man beneath all the anger. Like a curtain falling down, Merlin's face relaxed, his expression changing. Arthur almost paused in his turn, almost stopped and went back, to find out why he looked so hurt, to find out what he could do…

… but that wasn't his job. He wasn't anything but a lawyer to Merlin. No matter how much Merlin intrigued him, all they'd ever be was client and lawyer. No matter what Arthur was beginning to think, all that was because of the mystery of the case. Nothing more. There were no affections between them and no delusions that Merlin might actually like him (as a friend, let alone anything else), so there was no reason for Arthur to feel like this.

No one else had presented so much of a puzzle before, that was all. Merlin was an oddity and Arthur had always liked oddities.

People began jumping as a new song sounded over the club, roaring along to the singer and laughing with their friends. The group Arthur was with responded much the same, someone grabbing his arm and pulling him to the beat. After a few lines of the song, Arthur moved away with a smile, heading to the bar.

It should be a relief, burning off steam from the past week, preparing for the weekend (not that he got an actual day off, but he didn't go into the office on weekends if he didn't absolutely have to) and simply getting drunk enough to find the nearest, decent bloke and take him home for a thoroughly good shag.

Tonight, though, Arthur didn't feel like it. Which was ridiculous, because when you went out with your mates and needed to come down from the week, Arthur always picked someone up. Or when he didn't, he at least got shitfaced enough that the morning left him debating whether he'd copped off in a loo or something and simply forgotten over breakfast.

He looked back at his friends and it was like a punch in the gut. They were fine without him, Gwen with Lancelot and even Morgana throwing her hair back with her arms around the neck of some guy. Gwaine and the other guys were guarding their drinks and still managing to have a good time, miming along to the song with overly large gestures, laughter surrounding them. It wasn't that they wouldn't miss him (and he knew he'd get a text or two in the morning asking if he'd broken his own record and snagged a guy already), but Arthur didn't want to be on the dance floor right now.

What he wanted, in all honesty, was Merlin. Not exactly in that way (though he was starting to think that wouldn't be too bad either), but he wanted to know what was going on behind his anger and his sneer.

But what Arthur wanted didn't really matter, did it? He'd always done what was expected of him, from primary school to university, in choosing jobs (part-time and full-time), in doing what he was supposed to, rather than perhaps what was right. The one thing Uther had never really dictated was who graced Arthur's bed, but then again as long as Arthur performed his best for Camelot, his father didn't really seem too bothered with his personal life.

He set down his empty cup on the bar and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to be here and so he left, not bothering to say goodbye to his friends. They'd assume he had found someone so why not let them?

Instead of hailing a cab (and there were plenty milling around), Arthur decided a walk would do him good. He'd walk the general direction home as it wasn't too far, and if he wanted to get a cab then he could at any point in the journey, such were the perks of having an apartment in a high rise end of the city, one off main roads all the way from the club areas.

The walk was nice and it helped Arthur to clear his head. There wasn't too much alcohol left in him – the evening had been young still, hardly pushing on 11.30, so he hadn't drunken much yet – but fresh air did wonders. After forty minutes of walking, it paid off as he rounded the corner of a street to see his building rising up alongside so many others, familiar and home.

There was a figure lingering on the street, head tilted towards something in their hands, and Arthur looked on cautiously. While it wasn't a rough neighbourhood, dodgy characters could lurk wherever they wanted and this was prime time really, past midnight on a Friday night (slash-Saturday-morning).

He was just about to walk past the figure when they turned, relief etched on her face.

"Freya?" Arthur asked incredulously. She was the last person Arthur would have ever expected, especially at his home. He gave her a once over, to check she hadn't been attacked or something, and when he noticed the baby bump, he knew they had to get inside, somewhere warm and private.  
"Come on up," he invited, punching the door code in so they could get into the building and then stepping inside the lift, heading for the top floor.

When they were inside, he directed Freya to his lounge, leaving her pale and small against his large, leather sofas. He went for some water, brought back two pint glasses and offered one to her, sitting down on the same sofa, but the opposite end. She'd obviously come with a purpose, but he had no idea what kind of purpose.

"I'm sorry," she began, clutching the glass of water tightly. "I know we don't know each other, but you're the only person who won't look at me as if…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together before taking a sip of water.

"It's fine," Arthur assured her. While he could be a cold hearted bastard when needed, he could also be someone to talk to, someone nice and trustworthy.

"Usually I'd go to Merlin about these things, but…" she broke off again, looking away from Arthur and to the ground. "He's done so much for me, Merlin. I think that's his problem," she whispered, "He doesn't know when to stop."

Freya bit her lip, clutching at the glass again. Arthur wanted to offer her some form of comfort, but knew that she needed to be left alone, deep in her thoughts as she was.

"I've known him since I was little," she said, with a smile. "We went to primary school together and I told him he could marry me when I was older."

Arthur nodded a little stiffly; so the baby was Merlin's then?

"Of course I was heartbroken when he told me he'd rather marry our friend Will, but that I could live with them and have all the toys I wanted." Her smile widened and Arthur could see the woman she should be, beautiful and kind.

"Sadly enough, Merlin never went through with either proposal, not that I'd particularly want him to, nor would Will." She looked at Arthur then, meeting his gaze for the first time. "He thinks too much for other people and too little for himself."

She sipped the water again, leaving Arthur's eyes. "No matter what happens, just take care of him?"

It was an odd question, because in a way, Arthur was supposed to take care of Merlin. He was supposed to get him free of his charges, see him through the whole process, but there was more in Freya's tone. He couldn't ask about it though. Freya had more to say.

"These past few months he's been so angry, but when he was talking about you…" a finger slipped down the glass, stroking it as she rested it on her belly. "Despite all the spitting and snarling, Merlin likes you."

That surprised Arthur; firstly that Merlin would talk about him in any way that was positive and secondly that he liked him.

"Don't give me that look," Freya muttered, blushing slightly. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Freya announced she should leave. It was closing in on 1am now and Arthur shook his head, pointing her to his guest room.

"I could lend you an old t-shirt or something?" he said pathetically after convincing Freya to stay. She shook her head, gesturing to the bump with an odd look on her face.

"It's okay, this thing'll get in the way."

And even though there was no one beside him in his bed, having Freya and her words in the flat made his home seem less lonely than it had for weeks.

In the morning – after Arthur insisted on breakfast – Freya said that she was going to visit Merlin. When Arthur offered to drive, she smiled and shook her head. He'd already done so much, she said, and that she'd imposed too much already.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur was driving Freya to the Emrys' house, ignoring any protest she might have made. In truth, he liked her. She was kind and considerate, and though she didn't look at him often, when she said something to Arthur, he felt as though she meant it from the bottom of her heart.

He hadn't even thought of what she'd said the night before until he spoke into the intercom at Merlin's gate and pulled round the driveway. The door flung open – courtesy of Merlin, as per usual – and said man flew down the stairs, practically wrenching Arthur's car door off to get Freya out and in for a hug.

"Fuck Freya," Arthur heard Merlin say, pure worry in his voice, "I thought…"

It was then that Merlin looked into the car, noticing Arthur for the first time.

"Arthur let me stay at his place last night," Freya said, still half smothered by Merlin. She smiled back at Arthur. "And he offered to drive me around here this morning, even though I told him not to."

Merlin looked at Freya, as if inspecting that Arthur had been true to her word, before he looked into the car, a light frown on his brow.

The next words were grated out reluctantly, "Thank you."

Even as he drove back home, Arthur couldn't quite shake the curl of his lips (no, it was not a smile) off, probably looking like a madman the whole way.

Not that he cared. Maybe Freya had been right after all.

The day Merlin stepped into Arthur's office was the day everything changed. It wasn't because Merlin was actually in his office (that was down to Hunith bringing him), but because the court had finally set a date to begin the trial. While it was still a few weeks away, it brought reality to snap at their heels and Hunith left early, whispering that she expected Merlin to talk to Arthur before he came home.

They'd sat in silence, Arthur looking down at the letter he'd received. Merlin would get his shortly, if it hadn't arrived already of course.

"I'm guilty," Merlin repeated, leant forwards in his chair and fingers interlinked, elbows resting on his knees.

Arthur looked up sharply, "I think we established that the moment you first stepped in here, thank you very much."

Merlin looked at him, a frown on his brow (as usual), but none of his hatred.

"But I'm actually guilty. I mean, all of this, it's really real now." He clenched his jaw, looking down again.

"We've talked about this though," Arthur began, "I'm the best of the best and your mother's fuelling a lot of money into this. Either way, you're not going to get the sentence you would have got."

Merlin snorted at that. "Which is ridiculous. Why should I get special treatment just because my mother inherited buckets of money?" He was looking at Arthur again, eyes flashing with anger, not directed at the lawyer, but the world.

"It's the way the world works," Arthur said sadly, after a brief pause. It left Merlin with a bitter look on his face and Arthur a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I hate it," he confessed, watching Merlin's head snap round to meet his eyes. "But I can't change it. The whole legal system's corrupt, starting from the government and right down to the victims."

Merlin was silent for a moment. "Then why don't we change it? Do the proper thing and only present the facts of my case." Back was the defiant man, the one who for all the world wanted to be condemned.

"Why do you want this so badly?" Arthur asked, resting his elbows on the desk, meeting Merlin's eyes. "Why do you want to go to prison so much?"

Merlin's jaw clenched and it was how he knew he'd hit a nerve.

"There's something else isn't there. Something that you want to hide from me." He smiled, wanting the elation of victory he'd eventually get. "You can't keep secrets from me Merlin; you should know that by now."

Strangely, Arthur was only amused as the door slammed shut after Merlin rather than annoyed as he would be if any other client stormed out. In fact, it pleased him because it proved there was something Merlin was hiding.

Something that Arthur would find out soon.

Two days after the court date had been issued, Arthur came home to find Merlin sitting outside his front door, a book on his lap and a bored look on his face.

"About bloody time," he muttered, standing up with a groan. He'd evidently been there for a while and he looked at Arthur with meaning before saying, "Well the least you could do is let me in, considering I've been here for about five hours now."

Well, when he committed himself to something, Merlin was definitely one hundred per cent in at least. Which, considering his stand on his innocence probably wasn't too farfetched really. And Arthur would rather not know how he'd got past the security code, really.

"Do you want a drink?" Arthur asked, waving a hand in the direction of the lounge. He ended up bringing two beers into the room, setting one down in case Merlin changed his mind (he'd said he wasn't thirsty) before he sat down, taking a sip from the can and waiting for whatever it was Merlin had to say.

"I talked to Freya," Merlin said as he opened his can, taking a long sip of the beer. "Well, she talked to me." He didn't look particularly happy at this and wondered what exactly had passed between them. Another argument like the one he'd caught the tail end of?

"She… made me… see that maybe it's not a bad idea to work with you." He took another sip hurriedly, foam spilling out onto the top of the can. Merlin slurped it off before continuing. "Rather than against you. I mean you're only here to help and you've put up with me being a complete shit these past weeks. So…" He trailed off uncomfortably. "I kind of owe you I suppose."

That wasn't what Arthur had been expecting at all.

"So I'm willing to give whatever plan you've got a go," Merlin rushed on, looking down at the can between his hands. "Because you were right and it is the people who walk free that get the most 'fame'."

There was no meaning to the words and Arthur – trained to recognise even the tiniest slips – could see that there was something odd going on here. Did Merlin actually want to go to prison? Was that why he'd been so against Arthur actually wanting to help him?

No, that wasn't it. Why? Because that would have been too easy, too simple a reason. While it looked as though his claims were genuine, the little details slipped between him and Freya and that was what Arthur had been trained to pick up on.

Granted he hadn't used it on his own clients until now, but it was still something he could do, almost naturally. The differences between Merlin's account and Freya's could have been nothing to anyone else (and probably would have been overlooked, after all, what's in a name, be it a first- or sur-name), but it was the tiniest something, the only something, that Arthur had to work with in figuring Merlin out.

"When we go to court, they'll want your recount of what happened. They'll also call in the police that were on the scene, probably want to get a hold of the pub to confirm you were there and left, something like that, and they'll want to talk to Freya too." Despite the formality of his words, the atmosphere was relaxed, could even just be two friends sipping beer.

"They want Freya?" Merlin asked casually, glancing up at Arthur.

"Well, yeah. She's the only witness they have and so she'd be a sure fire way to lock you up." He set his beer on the coffee table, using his other hand to unknot his tie, slipping it from his neck and throwing it over the arm of the sofa.

"Isn't there a way to keep her out of all of this?" Merlin asked again, tapping his fingers against his can.

Arthur frowned, fiddling with the stiff button of his shirt. "Not really. She was named witness and said she would come to court if called upon." The button opened and he looked back at Merlin. "I know you're protective of her, but some things just can't be avoided."

His words didn't sooth Merlin any and Arthur watched as he took a vicious swig of his beer, frowning again.

"But she's…" Merlin broke off. "I don't want to talk about any of it." The subject changed suddenly, Merlin looking to Arthur and asking, "So, why a lawyer anyway?"

Never once had a client asked Arthur that. They never really asked anything to do with him really, unless it was related to them ('oh, you'll get me off right?' or 'you're working on my case now, yeah?'). He thought for a moment, wondering how sincere Merlin was in his question or if he just wanted to dodge the case.

Either way, really, it didn't matter by Arthur. He couldn't remember the last time someone had just asked about him. The people at work – his friends - just assumed he was well and happy because he did well at his job and had a lot of money. Only Gwen thought otherwise, but she'd never interfere in something like that.

"My father's the head of Camelot Legal. He's pretty much raised me up to be a lawyer." Arthur sipped his beer, settling back on the sofa. "I don't mind, I mean I enjoy the work." Merlin nodded, looking at him with curiosity. "But sometimes I wonder if I only enjoy it because I've always been prodded in that direction, you know?"

Merlin nodded.

"So, how about you?" Arthur said, half-turning so that his knee rested on the sofa and he was looking at Merlin.

"Me?" Merlin repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, what do you do when you're not blowing people's brains out in dark alleyways." Merlin looked at him incredulously for a moment, as if he couldn't believe Arthur had actually said it, but then he laughed, his face changing with his smile.

If Arthur had been interested before, seeing Merlin smile was like Christmas and his birthday both come early. It changed the whole air around him, beaming out Merlin's joy, and Arthur made it a new goal to see how much he could make Merlin smile from now on.

"Well… nothing really. I used to help at my uncle's business, but he retired last year and I hadn't found anything to do before all this." Merlin snorted, "And I doubt my career prospects will exactly be lining up right now."

The conversation flowed easily in a way Arthur never would have expected a week ago, a day ago really. Merlin was genuinely nice, interested in what he had to say and asked Arthur questions no one else had. Like, for example, what his relationship with his family was like.

"I get on well with Morgana," he said, breaking into his second beer. "But I don't see much of my father really. It's better that way. We don't exactly see eye to eye on most things anymore and we're both too busy to really try and get on."

And Arthur asked back too, asking how it was that Hunith had acquired so much money.

"Well we had a relative on my dad's side and when he died it just got left to us. I don't think anyone realised he hadn't been with my mum for years before he died – probably didn't even know about me – but we got the money and the house." Merlin looked down at his can. "I like the house. It's… quiet, but it's got history and I can imagine all the people who've ever been there. You can't really do that here," he quipped, smirking at Arthur.

Eventually, as with all good things, Merlin had to leave.

"My mum will be expecting me." He rolled his eyes, "Yeah it's sad, a man my age living with his mum, but I can go for days without even hearing her. That house is bloody big enough."

Arthur gave a huff of laughter, leading Merlin to the door with a smile. He'd enjoyed himself, having an evening talking about anything but work (sure it had factored into it, but Merlin didn't care about files or whether Arthur had formatted his paperwork properly, and that was nice).

Merlin opened the door, smiling back at Arthur.

"I did have a good time. Freya was right, you're not half bad." And before anything could be said, Merlin moved closer, pressing a fleeting kiss to Arthur's cheek before turning. Stunned, Arthur watched him walk down the corridor, smirking as he half-turned and waved back.

Arthur wasn't sure how long he stayed at his door after that, but he got a strange look from his neighbour opposite as they exited their house. And, just maybe, he stayed there for a little bit after they'd gone, but he'd never admit that to anyone. Ever.

.

For some strange reason, Merlin kept coming back. Every other night (or third night, depending), Merlin would be waiting at Arthur's door with a book in his lap and a bored expression on his face. They always went inside (and yeah, it might have been a bit awkward the first time, but Arthur was a man and he'd gotten over it pretty quickly), had a drink – which had then extended to Arthur cooking dinner, or Merlin bringing over home cooked meals to be heated up – and then retired to the lounge to chat.

The boarders of a professional-client relationship blurred and Arthur came to know Merlin as two people. There was the one Merlin, the one who was adamant he was guilty of murder, and then there was the other Merlin, his friend who liked to watch cartoons on Saturday mornings and talking to Arthur.

Tonight was different. Instead of sitting outside the door, Merlin was absent. It had been two days now that Merlin hadn't showed and Arthur had been expecting him all day. It was like a (small) punch to the gut to see his welcome mat devoid of any Merlin, but the time had to come soon. Merlin had better things to do than hang around his lawyer.

He unlocked the door, walking in and heading for the kitchen. He dropped his briefcase as he realised that, no, Merlin hadn't been outside… but inside.

"What the…" Arthur began as Merlin stepped out from the kitchen counter with a smile.

"Hi honey, how was your day? Hard work at the office? The kids are asleep and dinner will be ready in half an hour." Merlin winked after his high-pitched spiel before wandering back to tend to the pans on the stove.

"How did you get in?" Arthur asked incredulously. Merlin looked back at him with a bored stare.

"Almost all my friends are pretty criminals. Picking a lock is easy when you know the tricks of the trade." Merlin shrugged and Arthur decided this was another thing he didn't want to know about. "Besides, I thought I'd actually cook something. Not let my mother pass leftovers on me, which I then pass onto you and we have to reheat."

Merlin wrinkled his nose. "Reheated food doesn't ever quite taste the same," he lamented, pointing a wooden spoon covered in red sauce at Arthur. "Now, you go change and I'll carry on here, okay?"

Still slightly stunned by seeing Merlin in his kitchen (and was that a 'kiss the chef' apron?), Arthur wandered into his room to change, slipping into jeans and a t-shirt before heading back to where Merlin was dishing up some kind of sausage casserole dish.

As it turned out, Merlin had inherited his cooking skills from Hunith and the meal was delicious. He felt even more satisfied by the smallest blush appeared on Merlin's cheeks after his praise, aided by the wine they'd been drinking.

"So," Merlin said after dinner, sprawled across one of Arthur's sofas. His feet rested against Arthur's thigh, toes wriggling under socks. "I kissed you the other night."

He said it so casually, as if commenting that it was raining or that a bird had just landed in a tree. No one was ever this blunt to Arthur, shrouding whatever it was that needed to be said in layers of hints or gestures.

Everyone but Merlin of course.

"Yeah," he responded pathetically, glancing down as Merlin's toes curled against his leg.

"And I broke into your house today," Merlin continued and Arthur could feel his stare on his skin. He looked back, nodding slowly. "You didn't throw me out."

He sprung up from where he had been laying, turning over so that his head was closest to Arthur now, on all fours balanced on the sofa.

"If I didn't know any better," he muttered and it was all Arthur could do not to grab him there and then, "I'd say you had a soft spot for me."

It was as much a challenge as he'd ever get and Arthur launched into it head-first, reaching for Merlin's collar and pulling him closer. As soon as possible, he pressed his lips to Merlin's, kissing him properly rather than the pathetic cheek-kiss Merlin had offered.

Arthur mentioned this point between kisses and Merlin laughed, throwing his head back for a moment and offering his neck up for Arthur. Hands moved around Arthur's shoulders to clutch at the fabric of his t-shirt as he mouthed upwards, seeking Merlin's lips slowly, tauntingly.

Swinging a leg over Arthur's thighs, Merlin was suddenly on his lap, pressing against him. Arthur felt the smirk in their kiss before Merlin pushed their hips together, moving his lips to whisper into Arthur's ear.

"You know, I thought you were a bit of a prat when we first met, but I still fancied the pants off you." He pulled back with a grin, feigning ignorance as to why Arthur didn't offer a reply, instead focusing on his breathing, determined not to let Merlin win the game between them.

Merlin scooted off then, grabbing Arthur by the hand and leading him to his room.

"How did you-"

Merlin grinned. "I had over an hour of wandering around here before you got home," he pressed Arthur against the wall, next to the door of his bedroom. This time Arthur couldn't stifle the groan that escaped his throat as Merlin rubbed against him.

"So I decided to explore a bit." And then Merlin was gone, pushing the door open and walking back until he hit the end of the bed.

In the doorway, Arthur probably looked as lost as he felt and all it took from Merlin was a tilt of the chin before he joined, him, seizing the moment and pushing him back on the bed. He grazed his teeth over the pulse point in Merlin's neck, pressing feathered kisses where his teeth scraped skin as Merlin worked to remove his top, scrabbling a little awkwardly.

They ended up pressed close together, Merlin over Arthur. Their kisses were languid, sloppy and full of thousands of words they hadn't said yet.

"I'm scared," Merlin whispered, resting his forehead on Arthur's shoulder for a moment and Arthur knew he wasn't scared because of anything between them.

"I know," Arthur replied, pulling him down for a kiss. "But we'll be okay, yeah? You and me."

Merlin's answering smile was blinding as he moved forwards, trailing down with a grin.

.

Arthur woke with a grinning Merlin looking at him. In the night they'd migrated over so that they were sharing the same pillow, squished together comfortably. He sat up, stretching his arms as Merlin rolled over, wriggling with his arms spread over Arthur's bed.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked after watching Merlin wriggle around, burrowing his head between the pillows. Merlin paused, blinking owlishly up at Arthur.

"Making a Merlin-imprint in your bed so that you know I was the best you've ever had and that, even when we're sadly apart, I'm still here." He flashed a grin. "And you have a very springy mattress."

If anyone else had said that, Arthur would have thought them a bit creepy (okay, very creepy), but this was Merlin and, for some bizarre reason, it worked for him.

"I'm going to use your toothbrush, unless you tell me there's a spare." Merlin climbed off the bed, naked, and walked over to the ensuite. Arthur followed his progress hungrily, ignoring the question completely until Merlin poked his head back out, a familiar brush stuck in his mouth.

"Merlin that's disgusting," he said, shaking his head. Merlin shrugged, babbling about something that Arthur couldn't understand before he vanished again, turning the tap on.

"What I said," he repeated when he was done, wiping toothpaste from the corner of his mouth, "Was that I did ask, but you were too busy watching me walk around with no clothes on." He shook his head, tutting mockingly. "Terrible, just terrible."

Rolling his eyes, but with a smile, Arthur flopped back on the bed. Merlin climbed back in, fitting to his side as soon as he was under the covers, his limbs dangling over Arthur's chest. The position should have been awkward, but it was comfortable, nice even.

(How long was it since Arthur had last woken up beside someone? And by someone, he meant someone who actually meant something.)

"About what I said last night," Merlin said quietly, against Arthur's chest. "I meant it."

Arthur pulled him closer, kissing his head and running a hand over Merlin's spine.

"It's be okay," he said, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "We'll sort it out."

He didn't promise though. He couldn't.

.

They'd planned it, over dinner, before and after sex, when Arthur was showering and Merlin peering in the mirror, when Merlin was showering and Arthur pretending he wasn't looking in the mirror at him, and then in their shared shower. Merlin was willing to try, to try and get a reduced sentence while Arthur would fight his hardest to get him it.

Merlin still refused to budge that he was guilty, but Arthur just had to accept that.

Not once, in bed or over had Arthur ever thought 'oh shit, Merlin's murdered someone'. There was no moment where blind panic overtook him or he thought differently towards Merlin. Whether that was because there was something Arthur knew subconsciously or because Merlin was so blasé about his guilt that it was just a part of him, Arthur didn't know. He wanted it to be the former because… well, then at least it meant that Merlin wouldn't get such a hard sentence.

The court date loomed and, the weekend before the date was due, Merlin spent the whole Saturday in Arthur's bed, tucked up in the duvet and swamped by pillows, flicking kernels of popcorn at Arthur as they watched cheesy films.

They'd organised for Arthur to come over early on Monday, to sort through everything they were going to say, but for that Saturday and part of Sunday, it was just Merlin and Arthur in their little bubble, happy and away from the outside world.

The call came at 3am and Arthur ignored his phone the first and second times, rolling over in bed and running a hand blearily over his face as an annoying trill sounded across his bedroom. For a moment he wondered where he was, where Merlin was, before he remembered Hunith had wanted Merlin with her the night before the trial started.

The phone rang again and Arthur picked it up this time, sitting up in bed sharply as the person on the other end spoke.

"I'm sorry," Freya said sadly. "Would you… I mean can you…"

She asked him to meet her in the local hospital. She didn't say what had happened, but the fact that she was calling him rather than anyone else didn't exactly signal good news.

As he drove down nearly-empty roads, Arthur tried to keep his mind from assuming the worst. She was okay at least, maybe she just had a fright with the baby and didn't want to worry Merlin before the case? Who else was there to call after all – Will was the only other one Freya said she would burden with something like this and the probability that he was either stoned off his face or running in a troubled crowd at 3am was almost certain.

That was it; she was okay, everything was fine but she just couldn't depend on the others right now.

His heart sank when he looked up the name of the ward and found 'labour ward' written underneath. With a heavy heart, Arthur asked for Freya's room number at the desk on the ward and the clerk gave him a sad look, motioning down the corridor to one of the rooms, a little further than the others.

Arthur knocked, steeling himself. He heard someone call for him to enter and then there she was, sitting up in a large bed, pillows and blankets tucked around her. There was no crib in the room, no baby basket and the resuscitation unit lay switched off, pushed against the back of the wall and devoid of towels or blankets.

"I shouldn't have called," Freya said, looking at Arthur with a sad smile. "But everyone else…"

She sighed heavily, pushing back the bed linen until Arthur could see more of the hospital gown she wore. Even though his worst fears had been expecting it, he had to look away when the familiar bump of Freya's stomach was revealed to be gone, diminished.

"Wh…" Arthur swallowed. "What happened?"

He sat down on the only chair in the room, close enough to take Freya's hand if he needed to (and whether that was because Freya would need the comfort or he would, Arthur didn't know yet).

"You're supposed to measure how many times your baby moves in a day," she said, "Sometimes you don't feel movements so often, sometimes you just want them to stop." She looked down at the blanket, catching the edge of one in her hands and playing with the material.

"I came in because I hadn't felt movement for about half a day." Arthur closed his eyes, looking down to his lap. "The midwives, and then the doctors, couldn't find a heartbeat. I went for a scan and… nothing."

Freya gave a sad sigh. "I still had to give birth," she said and, Arthur thought, wasn't that just too cruel? To go through all that pain and hardship knowing that your baby's already dead? "He was a little boy," she added, smiling even though she had to blink back tears.

"I just wanted someone to be here," she said a moment later, voice thick with sorrow. "You're the only one who would see this for what it is."

Arthur placed a hand on hers gently.

"I just wanted to say thank you." She sniffed, closing her eyes tightly. "I've thought a lot since I got here. The drugs took more than a day to work, you know, so… yeah. Done a lot of thinking."

She'd suffered alone for over a day? Why hadn't she called them sooner? He said as much and Freya shook her head, pressing her lips together.

"What good would it have done?" She looked at Arthur, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Merlin would have just sat there thinking about what he's doing, what he's done, and Will wouldn't be able to cope. Who else do I have? My family are all dead, so that leaves you."

Freya clutched Arthur's hand and he realised that, despite hardly knowing each other, they were already friends, already people who cared about each other.

"Also…" she trailed off.

"Whatever it is, I'm happy to do it or help or… do whatever," Arthur said quickly. Freya looked at him again with wide eyes.

"Could I stay at yours? I don't think I could go home right now." She looked away again, still clutching Arthur's hand.

"Of course," he said, nodding violently. "Of course, stay for as long as you want."

Freya smiled sadly. "They said I can go home whenever. I just wanted to wait for someone."

The journey back to Arthur's was made in silence. They got in and Freya asked for an old shirt of Arthur's to sleep in, to which he obliged.

Nothing else was said, aside from a whispered apology just before Freya slipped into the guest room, pale as a ghost.

.

Arthur selected one of his finest suits, quietly dressing and slipping out of the front door. He'd left a note for Freya on the counter, saying she could help herself to anything and even letting her have the spare key in case she decided to go out. While he wanted to see how she was coping, he'd peeked in on her and she'd still been sleeping by the time he needed to go, so a letter was all the comfort he could offer.

The drive to Merlin's house was filled with worry, and not just for Freya. The case would be all their undoing if they weren't careful and he didn't know if he could stand to watch Merlin be sentenced harshly.

Despite all the 'rules' and 'regulations', Arthur had fallen for Merlin. Hard. He was complex, so caring and out of sorts to the man the case file wanted him to be that Arthur just didn't understand. One person couldn't be two people as the file made him out to be… but there was no other explanation. Merlin hadn't revealed anything spectacular that could call out a lie and so Arthur had to assume there wasn't one.

Merlin flung the door open, wrapping his arms around Arthur before he'd even had a chance to knock. The smile he offered after was blinding, but he didn't fully remove himself from the hug when he talked.

"Sorry, I'm just… nervous. I haven't been able to think about much else, but I know that whatever happens, it'll be okay." He was rambling so Arthur pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling.

"Everything will be okay," he said, though there wasn't enough confidence in the words for both of them.

Arthur had left a few hours early to run through the bare minimum with Merlin and they adjourned to the parlour room, running through what Merlin was to say and how they'd go about winning the case.

The phone rang a few times, Hunith answering it in the next room, but even that didn't shatter their small bubble, Merlin running through his lines, pacing, as Arthur sat in one of the larger chairs, papers spread around him.

What did shatter their run through was a clatter, then the pale face of Hunith as she came to the parlour door, eyes wide. Merlin stopped as soon as he met his mother's face, looking to Arthur once before moving over to her.

"Mum? What's wrong?" he asked as Arthur rustled papers out the way, standing up and hovering, unsure what to do.

"The court just called. Your case has been postponed while the police investigate a new suspect." Hunith was looking to Arthur, confusion clear on her face. Arthur, on the other hand, was looking at Merlin, looking at the way his eyes had widened and the look of horror on his face.

"Merlin?" he asked softly, and Hunith turned her attention to her son, frowning as she too noticed his state.

She began to speak to him, but Arthur's phone rang and he turned his back on them, suspecting that it would be someone calling to update him on the case, and why they had postponed the case.

"Arthur Pendragon," he muttered into the receiver, glancing over his shoulder as Hunith and Merlin began to speak in low voices.

"Mr Pendragon, I'm a police officer from Albion Met. We'd like for you to come in." Arthur told the officer he'd be there shortly and rung off.

"I'm going down to the police station," he said to Hunith and Merlin, interrupting what looked to be like an argument.

"Then I'm coming with you," Merlin said, stepping forwards. At any other time, Arthur would have liked the show of loyalty, but Merlin would only hold him back if he came along.

"No, you're going to stay here and get changed. You can still run through everything I've prepared if you want to, but until we know something about this new suspect, I want you to stay here and don't do anything stupid." He looked to Hunith, "I'll be back later, as soon as I know."

He left then, ignoring Merlin's protests and Hunith's gaze. He got in his car and drove down to the station, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The apprehension didn't leave until the officers let him meet the suspect, and Arthur's heart sank as he saw the familiar figure sitting in the chair.

"Freya," he whispered, shaking his head. "What are you doing?"

So she told him.

.

Arthur wanted to go home. He wanted to pack up and just forget everything about the case. He wanted to go and drown in alcohol and then sleep for a week, and the only thing stopping him from doing those things was the fact that he'd promised Merlin he'd go back.

Matthew let him into the house with a curt nod of the head, directing him to the parlour room. It was similar to how Arthur had left it, hours ago now, papers scattered around. A lamp lay smashed on the floor and he wondered who'd thrown it.

Merlin himself was sitting on Arthur's usual chair, feet tucked under him and knees by his chin. He watched Arthur cross the room, tracking his movement, maintaining his curled position. It was like he knew, Arthur thought, before realising that much was probably true.

It was why Freya hadn't wanted to talk to anyone she'd known for more than a few weeks. It was why she'd called Arthur and not Merlin or Will, because if she'd called one of them… It was the real reason why Merlin had pledged his guilt time and time again, the reason he'd argued with her before.

But before there had been a point behind it all, a baby at the end. Now? Now she had nothing.

"Go on then," Arthur said, clenching his jaw as he took a seat opposite Merlin. "The truth from your own mouth."

Merlin didn't even argue.

.

It had taken Merlin weeks to get Freya to agree to come out. Merlin remembered the night the police had phoned his house, asking for him to come and collect Freya, with terror. He never wanted to feel like that again, never.

She'd been raped, coming home from work. It had been early evening when the assault happened and Freya hadn't spoken of it to anyone but the police, shaking away questions with tear-stained cheeks whenever Merlin or Will had asked.

But they'd managed it, managed to get her out to celebrate Will's birthday and into their favourite pub. The group all knew each other and Freya had been having a good time, laughing at the jokes and even going so far to thank Merlin halfway through the evening.

It had all fallen apart though as soon as he'd show up. Mordred had walked up to the bar, half-turned to their table and raised one eyebrow to Freya. Only Merlin had noticed the look as the rest of the group were trying to calm down a man Will had sloshed drinks over, clamouring to pay the guy off before anything got ugly.

"Freya?" Merlin whispered furiously as Mordred turned towards the barkeep, sipping his drink. "Did he..?"

Freya looked away quickly, pressing a hand to her cheek and sniffing. That was all the confirmation needed, though she placed a hand on his wrist with a hurried shake of her head.

"Just leave it Merlin. The police know, they've been tracking him." She turned back to her drink, chewing her lip and forcing a laugh to the latest joke.

("Remember the rumours I told you about?" Merlin whispered, tucking his chin down even further. Arthur nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"Mordred's a murderer. He's killed tonnes of people, but no one cares because he works for Alvarr. Alvarr practically owns the criminal world and pays anyone who even considers thinking about turning against him off, or kills them." Merlin's voice was bitter and he looked away from Arthur.)

Five minutes after, Freya said she needed some air and slipped out of the bar, under Merlin's watchful gaze. He didn't touch his drink, but watched Mordred from the corner of his eye, steeling himself to make a move when Mordred did.

Will asked where Freya had gone then, drawing Merlin's attention for a minute, and when he looked back to look for Mordred, he was gone, glass empty at the bar.

"Shit," Merlin whispered and made quick excuses, saying he fancied some air. There were a couple of people outside, and they nodded when he asked whether Mordred had come out recently.

He ran across the square to the only half-lit alleyway. If they were anywhere, it would be down this alley, and how Merlin hoped he would be wrong.

"Emrys," Mordred greeted smoothly when Merlin entered the alley. Freya stood there, shaking as she held a gun, pointed to Mordred's chest. "I gave her my gun, said she should try killing me if she hated it so much."

Merlin snarled, "Fuck off Mordred. What you did to her was disgusting and I bet she wasn't the first woman's life you've destroyed."

Mordred laughed, throwing his arms into the air as if it was some kind of joke.

"Destroyed?" Mordred mocked, "Hardly. I gave her the gun to kill me and she can't even do it. She loved it, just look at her!" He laughed and Merlin moved forwards, preparing to wrench the gun from Freya and shoot the bastard himself when-

A gunshot sounded and then Freya sank on the ground, whole body shaking. Mordred's laugh cut off sharply as he stumbled back, a bullet in his head and blood trickling down the side of his face. He fell back with a thump as Merlin rushed to Freya's side, wrenching the gun from her hand as she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

.

Arthur closed his eyes. Freya had told him the story already, from her perspective at the station, but hearing it from Merlin was different somehow. Finally everything clicked, it made sense and the puzzle Arthur had been struggling with for weeks had finally revealed itself.

Merlin was innocent.

"Freya's told the police everything. She even told me how you paid off the officers who wrote the report to keep out that Mordred had raped her so that she wouldn't be linked to the case." Merlin shook his head, eyes staring off into the room.

"I did it because she has the baby and she has a future. What did I have? Nothing. It was just me and mum here and I was more of a disappointment to her than anything. I never did anything, except go and hang around with Will when I was bored of doing nothing." Merlin pressed his forehead to his knees. "I thought we'd be fine as well. She wanted to tell the truth, but I couldn't let her do that to the baby. No one cared that it was Mordred's too, because it was Freya's. I made her lie to save her, her and the baby."

Merlin let out a sob, burrowing deeper in on himself. "What life is she going to have now? What life are either of them going to have?"

Arthur looked away, hating that he had to be the one to share the news.

"Merlin, Freya called me early this morning." Merlin tilted his head, eyes wet. "She went to the hospital a few days ago… the baby was stillborn. She called me because I was the only one who didn't know she became pregnant when Mordred raped her, the only one who wouldn't treat it as more than the tragedy of losing a child." The words were said carefully, gently.

Freya had explained it all to him; she'd loved her baby even after what Mordred did to her, but everyone who knew of the rape would just see them linked. She hadn't wanted that, instead she'd wanted a moment to remember her son with someone who had no idea of the true nature of his conception, someone to share her sorrow with.

Merlin stilled, his body crumpling.

"She turned herself in because she said you were destroying yourself, but now you'd found something." Someone, actually, was what she had said, but Arthur couldn't assume Merlin would want him after this.

"She spent a lot of time the past few days thinking about her choices and… she made hers." Merlin began to shake his head, denial spreading, so Arthur pressed on. "It changes things. The case will change and Freya's unlikely to be charged harshly. She was acting in self-defence, provoked by a man who had already attacked her once. The police reports you tried to hide I paid to be reopened and her assault's been added to the case, as well as the fact she just lost her baby."

Merlin looked away, burrowing in on himself again. He looked so small, so frail, and all Arthur wanted to do was wrap his arms around him, pull him close.

"I'm not allowed to represent her, but I asked my colleague to take the case. Gwen's one of the best and she knows her way against Morgana well." Arthur paused. "And I know Morgana's not going to be hounding the case anymore, not when the real events have come to light."

He waited, watching Merlin in his chair. His eyes were closed and he was tucked up.

"You waiting for an invitation?" Merlin muttered, glancing at Arthur out of the corner of his eye.

Arthur moved forwards then, kneeling on the floor and wrapping his arms around Merlin. Instantly arms latched around him, Merlin's nose pressing against his neck as he controlled his sobs.

"Why her? Why has all this happened to her?" he whispered, the words ghosting against Arthur's neck. He tightened his hold, clutching Arthur to him as if he was afraid he too would be lost.

"She loves you, that's why," Arthur said, resting against Merlin as he held him.

"She… she knows about you." Merlin sniffed, pulling back with pink eyes. "Obviously about you, but that I…"

He closed his eyes, "That I think I might be in danger of falling in love with you."

No matter what would happen in the future, that it would be a tough few days (weeks even) before Freya could come back to them fully, there was no point in looking beyond the end of the day.

"Yeah?" Arthur said instead, knowing that any effort to reassure Merlin that Freya would be free and happy again would be a lie (and Merlin, the real Merlin under the hidden guise of guilt, hated lying). "I think I might be in that danger myself."

And then Merlin kissed him softly, without embellishment or promises, but with honesty and love, two emotions Arthur felt he had almost forgotten.


End file.
